


Till Death, Don't Let's Start

by jothending



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: ...to something maybe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, Enemies to Friends, Pre-Canon, dungeons and... what was it? oh right!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24584245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jothending/pseuds/jothending
Summary: Barry makes a terrible mistake, and ends up with his life quite literally in the hands of the reaper. Whoopsa doopsa!
Relationships: Barry Bluejeans & Kravitz
Comments: 34
Kudos: 180





	1. Hubris

“This is kind of a bad time.”

“Oh, I’m _so_ sorry, Barry,” says the possessed collection of boulders that’s about to punch him. “Were you hoping I’d come back when it’s more convenient for you?”

The incoming stone ‘fist’ collides with a skeletal hand. It’s larger than the lich itself, and yet it stops in place, with a shower of red sparks where they make contact. “A lich can dream.”

“You’ll have plenty of time for that in the Astral Plane,” Kravitz says, trying again to slam down. This time, he meets an invisible shield and keeps pushing. He can feel the magic that’s blocking him, and it is unyielding.

“Right. Yeah. There’s big magic here,” Barry continues, as though Kravitz is an idea soundboard and not a deadly enemy. His free hand–the one that isn’t blocking Kravitz–keeps waving in complicated patterns, some of which the reaper can recognize. Divinations, spells not unlike _Detect Magic_. “Thought it was the–a–a grand relic, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“And yet you’re sticking around.”

“Well, I–Wouldn’t you want to know what it is?” Barry stares intently at the ground. “I know I’ve felt something like this before, but–but not here. I just can’t place it…”

A flurry of gigantic stones comes raining down on the lich. An outward blast of force repels them all. He huffs like it’s an inconvenience.

“Look, can’t you just…” his idly casting hand completes another divination. “…Wait. Do that again.”

“I–” That’s enough to bewilder Kravitz out of the next strike. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s–I think it’s reacting to our–look, I know you don’t give a shit. Just do your normal thing, easy! Throw more rocks, or something.”

Kravitz considers this. Chances are a hundred to one that Barry’s just doing some ineffable scientific bullshit, and it isn’t going to affect Kravitz at all. But he’s also a very smart lich, and it could just as easily be a trap. “…No.”

“What–okay– _don’t_ hit me, then?”

“Are you _really_ going for reverse psychology, after that?”

“No offense, my man, but you’ve fallen for worse.” Barry sighs, and he raises a hand into the air. Red lightning starts to gather at his palm, blindlingly lit and erratically sparking.

Kravitz steps back, cautious. “ _Excuse_ me? Give me _one_ example.”

“That’d be telling,” Barry says coyly. “Anyway, no worries. I’ll do it myself.”

He slams his fist into the ground. The sheer volume of necrotic energy that sweeps through Kravitz makes him want to retch. He sees plantlife ripple miles away, shuddering from its power.

“WHAT in the HELL, Barry Bluejeans!”

“Shush!” Barry says quickly, casting another divination. “Ha! Yes!”

“Are you _quite_ done,” Kravitz snaps, and doesn’t wait for an answer before hurtling another magicked rock.

It shatters as it hits the robe. Barry, still deep in concentration, doesn’t even flinch. “…Oh. No.”

“No?”

“No!” Barry repeats, flying up towards Kravitz’s golem ‘head.’ “We–We gotta _go_ , bud, we–”

The ground begins to shake beneath Kravitz, rumbling and shifting in ways that feel unnatural for an earthquake. Flat earth starts arching into a hill, cracking chunks of dirt and felling trees as it does.

Kravitz starts to get the distinct feeling that he forgot something about this place, something from a terribly long time ago.

“–We gotta MOVE! KRAVITZ! Get outta those fuckin’ rocks and GO!”

“You think you can scare me with some Thaumaturgy-level, hokey?” Kravitz taunts, but it isn’t with all the confidence it should have. Then Barry reaches _through_ him.

Kravitz feels his soul, his very essence, dragged forcibly into a vulnerable state. Outside of the protection of his body, held firm by someone who could destroy him from here. Instead, though, Barry flings Kravitz into the sky.

Disoriented, Kravitz follows his instincts, and cover manifests around the ball of light. His skeleton forms, and then the rest of his projected form. Below, the rocks he was possessing all fall apart, crashing down into the grass and rolling away as the earth keeps moving.

From below them both, there’s a deep rumbling. The volume is overwhelming, destructive, and it takes a few seconds to pinpoint what it is: a roar.

“BARRY FUCKING BLUEJEANS, IS THAT A–”

“Dragon! It’s a dragon, I-I fucked up, I woke it up!” Barry says quickly, panicked. “It’s gonna be mad at me, but if you get outta here, it might not pick up on your goddamn– _scent_ or whatever it picks up on, I don’t care–”

“Sounds like we’re on the same side, then,” Kravitz says, still midway through his effort to regain his composure.

“I–what–you’re actually gonna help me?”

Kravitz summons his scythe. “No.”

“Oh, I see. You meant the–the, uh. You meant you’re allying with the dragon,” Barry says, flying further away. “Which is stupid, by the way! You’re fuckin’ insufferable!”

“Then quit! I can get us _both_ away from the dragon, you know,” Kravitz offers.

Scales start showing between the breaking chunks of earth. They shine bright red in the sunlight.

“IT’S FUCKING _CHROMATIC_ , KRAVITZ!”

Kravitz isn’t stupid. He knows how dangerous a dragon can be. But he also knows that he himself has a foolproof means of escape. And if Barry’s dealing with an entire _dragon_ in the meantime, it could throw him off just enough to give Kravitz an opening. All he’s ever needed was one successful swipe.

The dragon rears its furious head, finally breaks free of the earth it slept under for centuries, maybe millennia. The lich that woke it immediately has its attention, and the attention of a dragon is something one never wants.

Barry dives and weaves between blasts of fire and gnashes of giant teeth. Kravitz keeps out of the dragon’s direct line of sight, but when he sees an opening, he flies in.

It’s the fastest and most serious way he’s ever seen Barry deflect him. His scythe goes flying out of his own hands, and a large chest manifests in the air just long enough to snap shut over the weapon. Then it’s gone.

“Nice try,” Kravitz says, summoning the scythe again. It doesn’t come.

Barry must have some _powerful_ wards on that extradimensional box, if a reaper can’t summon a soulbound weapon from it.

“Well, that _was_ my exit,” Kravitz says bitterly, now considerably more on edge. He stays further back from Barry and the dragon, trying to formulate a plan to deal with this without his scythe.

“I will make you a portal _myself_ if you’ll _fucking go through it!_ ”

“What’s your goal here?” Kravitz retorts. Admittedly, it’s a little mesmerizing, watching Barry fly around in an almost practiced routine. Like he’s done this before, even though no dragons have threatened Faerun for far longer than he has existed. Still, even a lich like him won’t ever take down a _dragon_. “How are you going to stop this thing on your own?”

“Oh, like _you’d_ suddenly up and make yourself valuable help?” Fire nicks him. “Shit!”

“Well, I wasn’t just going to leave a fucking _dragon_ loose on the world after I caught you, and I’m still not going to do it now!”

“I-I can’t trust you,” Barry says, and he has the nerve to sound sad. “Stop.”

Kravitz suddenly finds that his body doesn’t much want to move. He feels, actually, that he’d be quite better off if he _stopped_ , and didn’t move a single muscle, even though every other thought in his mind is screaming that he needs to move. He has the feeling that, if he had a need for air right now, his lungs wouldn’t even expand.

The dragon is no fool, but Barry can at least keep it going in circles. He throws strings of magic off himself, luring the dragon upwards, and striking at its neck and underbelly. Then it’ll face him again, and he’ll shoot into its mouth. Repeat.

Kravitz, forced to watch, sees the pattern complete a few times, though Barry’s smart enough to change up how he executes it each time.

When they come towards the reaper once more, he sees the dragon break pattern. Its head levels with Barry early, while he’s still facing away from it.

“Careful!” Kravitz shouts instinctively, drawing Barry’s attention.

And the dragon’s.

The dragon faces Kravitz, and now he can see the fire it was building up in its jaws to attack Barry. He can see its eyes, too: it is far too furious to care about attacking someone other than its target. But his terror won’t allow him to move.

Barry flies in front of Kravitz. Kravitz sees his skeletal face, hollow and shaded. And then all he sees is fire.

It goes right through Barry, but it doesn’t hit Kravitz nearly as hard as it should. It is searing, yes, painful beyond imagining, but it does not decimate him the way dragon fire should.

The same cannot quite be said for Barry. His form flickers and glows something horrible. The flaming energy boils from within, threatening to destroy him, and he… spins around.

The energy flies back out of himself, now in enormous tethers of red lightning that coil around the beast. The dragon’s flight gets closer to the ground, until it crashes into the ground, sleepy or subdued or both.

But Barry looks worse than Kravitz has ever seen him. He’s always so composed for a lich, and now he’s only barely holding himself together. But it still isn’t like what he’s seen from other liches. He’s focused: his mind is present.

He’s just… discombobulating. Falling apart from that blast, and desperately trying to keep it together.

Kravitz can see the dragon on the ground, thrashing and struggling against its bindings, soon to be free once more.

“Krav–Kravitz,” Barry says urgently, his voice splitting and shaking and fighting so hard to stay comprehensible. “I–I know we’re not–it’s– _please_ ,” he tries, like he’s aiming to speak a whole hour’s worth of words when he has mere moments.

He’s coming undone. He grabs Kravitz’s hand, and it’s now that Kravitz realizes he’s allowed to move again. He lets Barry take it anyway, even though it would be so easy to brush off that feeble, shaking grasp.

He feels something cool pressed over his index finger, and when he looks down to see it, something hits his chest. He’s shoved back, and he sees the rim of a portal, and realizes he’s being pushed through one of Barry’s making.

“ _Barry_ –” the sky is the same. They’re still on the Material Plane, just a different part of it. A place where the dragon isn’t. (Yet.)

Barry takes his hand again, claps both skeletal hands around it. “Please don’t fuck me over on this one, Krav,” he says, and then his form completely dissipates. Barry is gone.

Kravitz stares at where Barry was for a few moments. And then he looks around. He’s on the outskirts of some city, now on the ground. Not making a spectacle by popping out of a portal in the sky, at least.

He tries for his scythe. It still won’t come.

And on his oustretched hand, on the index finger, there’s a ring. Pale tracings of a tiny, complex sigil encircle the rim. And in the center, there’s a small, red gemstone.


	2. Hold Fast

Of course, having a foreign magical object attached to oneself is quite dangerous, no matter how little you suspect its applier of sabotage. And so Kravitz immediately tries to get the ring off.

The simplest solution is moot; it's well-fitted, but it won't seem to slip off his finger. Not a problem, though. His form goes skeletal, starting at his head and spreading down to his extremities. His left hand turns to bones, and his right... well, the wrist is bone, and it spreads nearly halfway up his hand. But his fingers just won't turn. The flesh under the ring won't be evicted.

It's a strain to push against the magical blockade the ring is causing. As soon as he relaxes, it's like letting go of a stretched rubber band. His whole body blinks back to the mortal look. He frowns.

"Alright, Barry, what the hell is this?" Kravitz asks, not expecting a response. He has a few suspicions, but none of them are things he'd like to be true. Then again, that's everything with Barry J. Bluejeans.

The scythe still won't come, so he's going to have to resort to more traditional methods of reaching the Raven Queen. He pulls out the raven feathers he keeps on his person, and starts to arrange them in a circle.

Kravitz puts down the fourth of five feathers, and then he picks it back up. And he picks the rest of them up. And then he starts walking into town.

It's not a very charming city, at least by appearances. Anyone who looks his way seems either suspicious or like they're sizing him up. Without his scythe, or most of the powers that his semi-corporeality affords him, he's starting to get nervous. Hopefully nobody's picking up on that. (It feels like everyone is.)

He walks into a quaint little shop that boasts spell components and potions on the rickety little sign outside. Precious gems and enchanted metals catch his eye, stowed in undoubtedly-hexed glass cabinets. Tools of clerical necromancy, and other powerful practices. Nothing that he needs, but he stares for a little too long anyway.

Then he turns to find what he really needs. Bird feathers, displayed on a shelf alongside several other fauna components. He picks up a handful of corvid feathers and brings them to the salesperson. They provide a price that's absolutely outrageous.

"That is _completely_ unreasonable!"

"Well, my friend, it's the price. Take it or leave it." A clerk who suspects he's dealing with someone with far too much money, and has eyes that seem to look right through Kravitz, piercing right through to his desperation. Though perhaps they misread the cause of the emotion.

"This is nonsense. I can get feathers for _free_."

"Well, you have fun chasing the birds. Come on back when you realize it's harder than it looks."

"No, I mean I already _have_ feathers! I--"Kravitz stares at the ones in his hand, and then puts them down on the counter, blinking too much. "I'm--Why am I here?"

The merchant looks him up and down with those too-sharp eyes, searching for deception. "...I'm not the one to ask."

Kravitz tried to call the Raven Queen before he went into town, didn't he? He started arranging the feathers, and then he--he _didn't_. What happened?

His legs stop moving. Which is weird, because He can't remember when he started walking. When he looks up, he's facing those resurrection components again. "Rrgh!"

He looks at his own hands--at the ring. "Sir. Would this be the place to ask about cursed item disposal?"

"You're gonna wanna try the place a block to the west," says the merchant mildly.

The shop a blog to the west is hard to find. Not because it's hidden, or even remotely poorly advertised--no, there's quite a colorful sign advertising their services. It's hard to see, though, because he keeps staring at the ground as he walks, instead of up at any of the shop entrances. And he keeps fighting these urges to turn around, to go back and do something else. It's hard to focus. Eventually, though, he walks into the building.

And then he walks right back out.

He walks in again, and tries to say something to the shopkeeper, and forgets what he was going to say, and leaves again. And then he walks in again because _what the fuck_ , and then he walks out again and yells at his own hand, "What the fuck!"

The next time he walks in, the shopkeeper catches him by the shoulders, and smiles knowingly. "I'm gonna assume this is a symptom of, uh, whatever you need removed? I've seen similar stuff before."

"Oh, yes," Kravitz says, relieved. And then he punches them upside the jaw.

Feeling mortified is a mistake. The enchantment affecting him latches onto the feeling, and heightens it. All he can think or manage to do is _flee_ from embarrassment. He wrenches out of the alarmed shopkeeper's grasp, and runs off down the street.

Kravitz isn't really aware of his surroundings until he's stopped. He gets shoved against a brick wall, a knife to his throat. "You look like the kinda guy with a wallet to spare."

"You look like the kinda guy with a knack for misreading the situation," Kravitz replies, which gets the blade closer to his skin. He isn't really concerned, though he isn't looking forward to dealing with the aftermath when he can't stay in skeletal form.

The mugger seems nervous, but it's in that way that makes one more dangerous. "Sh-shut up. Don't try anything. Just hand over your money, and we'll be done here."

Kravitz considers going mostly-skeletal and scaring them off. But he decides to entertain this for a moment; he hasn't really got anything to lose. "I'm afraid I don't carry currency." And again, he wonders why he thought walking into a store was something he needed to do.

"Then--that. Give me that ring."

Kravitz snorts. "You're free to it."

"What was that look? Is it a fake?"

"A fake? I doubt it." Kravitz slowly brings his hand up, to hold it out to the mugger. His tone is perfectly controlled again. "I just have no need for it."

The mugger looks uncertain, and for a moment Kravitz thinks he's going to demand that Kravitz take it off himself, but it seems they're too nervous and rushed to think of that. They reach for the ring, and then abruptly seize up. Kravitz watches red electricity crackle over their body, and then they collapse.

He frowns, and side-steps around their body. No soul pops up, so they're just unconscious. "Saving me half an ounce of trouble doesn't make up for you being attached to me like this," Kravitz says. He's walking back towards the edge of town, somewhere quiet where he can get this all sorted out.

He starts to turn around, but he catches it this time, and redoubles on his route out of town. "Would you _quit_ that? I don't know if it's your consciousness or something else in there messing with me, but-but I'm--I'm trying not to _die_ here, Kravitz!" Kravitz says.

And then he stops, processing. That isn't... he didn't mean to say that, but it definitely came out of his own mouth. "Great. Great! So now you're in my head even more!" Nothing.

"Look," Kravitz continues as he walks out of town limits, "You're the one who attached this _thing_ to me. The least you can do is explain why you would--w-you--I'm trying to save the goddamn _world!_ Would you please _listen_ to me before y-you--you--"

Kravitz's hands keep moving as his mouth blabbers on with words that aren't his. He pulls out the feathers, now in a frustrated fistful, and starts to lay them out, _furious_ now at this invasion of his selfhood, _terrified_ of--why is he--scared?

It wells up in his chest, this uncontrollable, vivid terror. A spike of adrenaline so sharp that he leaps immediately up from his knees, hand out for his scythe that won't come, to fight something that isn't there. His skeletal form pushes all the way to that cursed-to-flesh finger.

It's Barry's fear. But it isn't truly fear for the lich's own life (or undeath), not entirely. He _truly_ believes that what he's doing is important--and that this will cause a much bigger problem than himself.

Kravitz's fingers tighten around the final feather that needs to go in place. "Tell me _why_ , or I'm putting this down, and having the Raven Queen _herself_ remove you from my head."

The fear washes out of him all at once, a weight giving way to relief. For a few moments, everything is still. Skin comes back to his form. Kravitz eyes the feathers on the ground.

There's a sensation from behind his eyes, almost like a gentle tapping. A question of permission; a knock on the door. He hesitates. And then, for the first time in all his career as a reaper, he allows a lich to enter his head.

_Oh, thank the gods. Heya._

"Fucking _explain_ this, Bluejeans!"

_Yup, yup, yeah, you got it. You wanna know about the end of the world first, or the ring?_

"The ring, actually!"

_How'd I guess. Uhh, it's a phylactery, kind of?_

"You've--this entire time, you've had a--"

_Nope! Conjured it right then. You'd think I'd make myself that easy to snuff out? C'mon._

"I've met liches with far worse methods of self-preservation, to be fair.

 _Yeah, but have you met_ me? _Really. Anyway, listen, the world-saving stuff is really urgent. Honestly, if we could walk-n-talk, that'd be great. I really need a resurrection--_

Kravitz laughs out loud. "You think I'd draw on my own god's magic--on the Raven Queen--to give form to a rogue lich?! Absolutely not!

Something like a sigh echoes from inside Kravitz's head. _Can I show you a memory?_

"...If it's a true one."

And then he is afraid again. But now it's different, muted, past. It's decades upon decades old, and yet still so vivid. He sees darkness descending on the world--on a home, on millions of homes. He sees destruction, painted in speckled black. He sees the deck of a silver ship, flying tirelessly from the storm...

"What... was _that_ ," Kravitz asks, feeling as though he's out of breath he doesn't need.

 _The Hunger_. More memories of that horror play in the back of his head, this tragedy on loop. Worlds being destroyed. Universes consumed. _It's coming here, too_.

"We... we'll fight it," Kravitz says. They have gods on their side. "Surely we can--"

 _YOU CAN'T_. Robots staying behind to defend their planet as it is consumed. Worlds with tremendous magic and technology, firing on this impossible enemy. Planar systems uniting, using the Light to power unprecedented weapon technology, and still failing. Being completely overtaken. _YOU ARE NOT DIFFERENT. THIS WORLD IS NOT SPECIAL!_

Barry sounds more like a _lich_ than ever, even without a corporeal voice. Unhinged, emotion-driven, angry. And then... he's composed again. _I'm sorry. It's just--it's not. People far better equipped than you guys have still lost, countless times._

"Well--" words get caught in Kravitz's throat. How does one respond to this? How does one process? An existential dread is creeping over him, and this time it's entirely his own emotion. This all can't be true, it... oh, of course. It _can't_ be true. It's a fabrication the lich is making up to save himself, is all.

He can't yet shake this unsettled feeling. But he sure can ignore it.

 _For fuck's sake_.

"You do _not_ get words here, lich!" Kravitz says, but still, the hand with the feather hesitates.

 _Okay, okay, how about this,_ Barry says quickly. _I know where that dragon's headed._

"...How?"

 _It'll want to eat the nearest big magic. That'll be the closest 'Grand Relic'._ Kravitz doesn't know exactly how Barry psychically conveyed the feeling of air quotes, but they're definitely there. _Whiiich also happens to be a powerful necrotic artifact, and I'm sure that'll look good on your... quarterly report? Or whatever you guys do? If you recover it._

"You know what," says Kravitz, who would prefer not to admit how reluctant he was to complete his calling to the Raven Queen, "alright. Give my scythe back, then, and tell me where to--"

_Oh! Haha, no. This ring might be warded to shit to stay attached to you, but I don't trust it against Reaper steel._

"Well, you're in my head. You already know that that wasn't my intention with it."

_You thought about it. Probably. And even if you didn't, I wouldn't trust you not to think about it later! Listen--you can cast magic through me. Or I can cast it, maybe. Never been in this situation before, honestly._

"Oh, and what's your magic going to do here? You've already lost to the dragon once!"

_Good! Mistakes are to learn from, Kravitz! Live a little!_

And then Kravitz's ring hand trembles, and shakes, and then... _snap!_ Sparks fly from the ring as he does so, and in the same moment, the ground is gone from beneath Kravitz's feet. He's falling.

There goes Barry with the fucking portals again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Each and every one of you is greatly appreciated. You can find more of my works on my [tumblr](https://umbraastaff.tumblr.com/post/185776310829/).


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